


Budapest Changed Everything

by eiluned



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, F/M, Partnership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiluned/pseuds/eiluned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They fought at each other's sides and fought each other in a tangle of naked bodies, two damaged souls who took what pleasure they could from the other's presence.  But Budapest changed everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Budapest Changed Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Probably the first of many Budapest fics that I'll write. Partly inspired by Cristinuke's prompt, but I plan on writing another one for her. :) I love feedback.

When they first started fucking, there was always an edge of danger to it. They were dangerous people, after all, and you don't fuck a woman called the Black Widow without an air of wariness, a coiled readiness to defend yourself even while you were sinking into her soft, tight heat.

The fucking was almost like a fight, a battle for dominance that sometimes ended with her flat on her stomach, both wrists held in his grip above her head, her body pinned between the mattress and his cock. And sometimes it ended with his hands behind his back, lashed together with his own belt, as she shoved him to the floor and rode him until she came screaming.

They fought at each other's sides and fought each other in a tangle of naked bodies, two damaged souls who took what pleasure they could from the other's presence. 

It was after Budapest that things changed. The bullet glanced off of his skull, leaving a profusely bleeding gash across his temple, and he'd dropped like a sack of potatoes from the shock of it. She didn't know that it had just been a graze, though, and made a sound of pure rage, popping up from behind her cover and taking down five guys in quick succession, Glocks blazing in her small, strong hands.

"Don't be dead, don't be dead, please don't be dead..." she whispered as she dropped to her knees at his side, turning his head to look at the wound. "Don't be dead, Clint, I need you--"

"'m fine," he slurred, and it wasn't a lie; his head was ringing a little, but he'd had enough concussions in his day to know this one wasn't bad at all.

Her face crumpled a little when he spoke, but just for a second and then she was herself again, tugging a gauze from her belt and pressing it to his head.

They locked themselves in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city. When he was still damp from a stinging shower, she patched him up. There really wasn't much to do, just clean up the graze and slap a bandage on it. When he was clean and settled on the bed, she disappeared into the bathroom, and as he listened to the sound of the shower, he thought about her words and that look on her face.

By the time she came out of the bathroom, bruised body wrapped in a towel, hair damp and tousled, he had decided to throw caution to the wind.

"You said that you need me," he stated into the quiet.

She froze with her hand on the suitcase lid, her bare shoulders suddenly tense, and he realized she had been shivering since she came out of the bathroom.

"Tell me what you meant," he said gently.

After a silent moment, she turned to look at him, and her expression was a little broken, which scared him. "You help me remember who I really am," she finally said, her hand fisted around the top of her towel, white knuckles pressed against her breast. "I need you because you keep me sane. I need you because I trust you and no one else. I need you because I..."

She trailed off, but he heard the unspoken words as clearly as if she had spoken them aloud. He imagined he could hear her heart pounding, or maybe it was just an echo of his own hammering pulse. This was something he had never expected, or that he never would have expected until he met her. Love wasn't something that happened to people in their line of work, and yet here they were, both feeling it but not saying it.

"Come here," he said, his low voice shattering the silence.

She made love to him slowly, his back against the creaky headboard and her body wrapped around his, mouths locked together, hands grasping and holding onto each other as if they were afraid of letting go. She held his gaze but when he made her come apart, her eyes slipped closed and her head fell back, beautiful lips parted on a sound of sheer pleasure. He loved how she sometimes would whimper when she came; it was such a vulnerable sound, and he felt privileged that she let him hear it. There were words in this whimper, words he could just understand.

When he buried his face in the curve of her neck and spilled inside of her, he groaned those words back to her.

She liked to pretend that all she remembered of Budapest was the crazy firefight, but the curve at the corner of her mouth when she mentioned it told him differently.

Budapest changed everything.


End file.
